by E A Lake
Henry pounded on the door of the small shack for the fifteenth time. Again, he paced back and forth, peering into the dirty windows but could see nothing. Finally he went to the back door and found it ajar. Cautiously, he let himself into the dark room. The stench of stale alcohol and tobacco invaded his nostrils. He covered his nose with a large blue plaid handkerchief.
He spied his prey lying half naked on the couch. After stepping carefully through piles of trash, Henry shook the unconscious man. “Hunter,” he said softly, shaking his friend’s shoulder. “Wake up.” No response. Henry tried again, a little firmer. Still no response. He frowned at the spectacle of a human being.
Out of desperation, Henry went to the pail in the sink and fetched a mug of cold water. “Hunter,” he called louder. The man failed to move for the last time. Henry raised the mug above Hunter’s frame and poured its contents on his face and chest.
Hunter spit water away and sat up quickly, grabbing his aching head. After shaking the cobwebs from it, he glanced sideways seeing Henry standing next to him. “Oh, hi Henry,” he spit out, wiping water from his face. “What brings you over today?” Hunter picked up a dirty pair of socks from the floor and patted his face and chest dry.
Henry shook his head in disgust. “If you want to drink yourself to death, you are more than welcome to, Hunter. But you have a task to take care of first.” Henry searched the room for a towel or something better Hunter could dry with. The best he could find was a dirty shirt. He tossed it at him.
“I told that nun I’d be back in a week, Henry. No sense me going there every day.” Hunter leaned back and lit a hand-rolled cigarette. Shaking his head, he peeked one last time at his friend’s frowning face. “What?”
“When was the last time you were over at the old Henshel place?” Henry asked.
Hunter rubbed the sleep from his eyes contemplating the question. “Couple days ago now. Thereabouts.” Exhaling a large cloud of smoke, Hunter coughed and spit into a pile of trash on the floor.
Henry scowled. This man was a drunk and a pig. “Try seven days, Hunter. Seven days.” Henry wandered to a window and watched the rain fall harder from the sky. “And Harvey Yoder says you were supposed to come over two days ago to help him pick rocks.”
“Sorry. I was…busy.”
Henry shook his head again. “Yes, I can see that. Obviously you’ve been picking your place up. Spring cleaning maybe?” Henry turned away, disgusted with Hunter. “I can understand not keeping your appointment with Yoder. He hasn’t paid you yet.” Henry took several steps closer to Hunter to deliver his next message. “But the militia paid you in full, Hunter. Full! You dishonored your contract with them, and Sister Theresa, and God. I can’t stand by and watch you act like this. You’re a better man than that. You must honor your contracts. You simply must.”
Hunter nodded his acceptance still staring at the ground. Henry knew where to strike him, and it had once again worked. After a long silence, he looked up at Henry, still waiting for an explanation.
“It’s raining today. So running over there won’t do much good.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned back into the couch. “I promise to get there tomorrow Henry, rain or shine. God’s truth.”
Henry moved for the door. “Don’t bring God into this Hunter. He’s very disappointed with you right now I’m sure. Just honor your contracts and commitments. You have to do that.”
Henry disappeared out the back door without another word. Rising slowly from the couch, Hunter peered out the back window. The rain intensified.
Sister Theresa and the five teens stood by the empty garden, with the five babies in infant seats, planning their next move. Five days of digging had resulted in an area half as small as Theresa had settled for three days prior. She gazed at the plot wondering if it was large enough.
“Is this going to be big enough to give us what we need, Sister?” Karen asked. She too noticed the dwindling garden size.
Theresa shrugged. “It will have to be. I mean, we have to get to planting sooner rather than later, right?” Now it was Karen’s turn to shrug at Theresa.
Theresa had experience with gardening, though it was a number of years ago. Sara clutched pencil and paper ready as they plotted everything out. There had to be some strategy to this, but besides putting the seeds in the ground, they weren’t sure of their next move.
Sheila studied the back of the sweet corn packet. “It says we need to plant two or three seeds 12 to 15 inches apart, in rows 30 to 36 inches apart. And plant them at a depth of one and a half inches.” She gazed at the group and sighed. “Sounds simple enough.”
Emily held the packet of carrot seeds. “Plant the seed ½ inch deep and don’t sow too thickly. Better to space correctly than too thin. Carefully place 16 to 20 seeds per foot in the row.” Emily screwed up her lips. “This doesn’t sound as easy as corn.” The others sadly agreed.
“That garden’s not large enough to feed you for very long, Sister.” A male voice came from behind them. It was Hunter, finally. Theresa stormed over with a stern expression to meet him, away from the others.
“Where exactly have you been? I expected you days ago.” Theresa spoke harshly, yet quietly so the others wouldn’t witness her anger. She sniffed at the man. Again, the latent scent of alcohol and cigarettes reached her nose. “And I see you haven’t taken the time to clean up at all.” She glared at him. “Really, I would think we could expect a better prepared person to come around.”
“I had a couple of things to take care of this past week. But I’m here now. And I’ve been too busy to worry much about cleaning up, Sister. So just lay off.” Hunter scanned the garden. “I thought we laid out an acre on that first day?”
Theresa shook her head as she turned back at her flock. “We would have had more done if you had shown up at all,” Theresa replied in an unhappy tone. She grabbed his arm, stopping him in mid-step. “I told you this before – we need your help every day. We really do. Otherwise certain things aren’t getting done. The garden, for example.”
Hunter shook his head looking at the girls. “I know Sister, I know. I’ll try harder from now on. I just get bogged down by certain things, and the days seem to slip away.” His eyes focused on Theresa’s intense gaze. “You understand, right?”
Theresa shook her head. “No, I don’t, sir. I just know I feel very disappointed right now. You understand that, correct?”
He shrugged slightly. “Yeah I get it. Loud and clear.” He strolled to the edge of the garden and picked up a shovel. Within a minute he was hard at work, sweating out another hangover.
Working steadily into the afternoon, Hunter only took a break to have a few sips of water and lunch. Shortly after eating a sandwich, Theresa watched as he made his way to the fencerow and bowed down away from prying eyes. She noticed his back arch as the contents of his stomach vacated his pathetic body.
Theresa scowled and turned to find Sara. “Please go make a pot of coffee. I’m afraid he has some sort of bug that requires caffeine.” Sara briskly walked around the back of the house. Karen approached Theresa after Sara left.
“He’s an alcoholic, Sister. We should probably just run him off. Don’t you think?” She stared at Theresa, awaiting her reply.
Sighing, Theresa’s eyes fell to the ground between her feet. “I’m fully aware of what Hunter is, Karen.” Her head bounced slowly. “But he’s all we have for help right now. I believe it’s my duty to not judge him for what he is,” she turned and looked at Karen finally, “but what he can become.”
Karen and Theresa watched as the man puked for a third time. “Oh God,” Theresa said quietly. “What have you done to us? Why this man?” The pair turned and picked up where Hunter had left off.
Chapter Twelve
After two more days of hard work, all deemed the digging and planting a success. Hunter actually showed up, on time, for three consecutive mornings. Sister Theresa gave thanks that her prayers were being answered, for now at least.
; A sober and clean Hunter stood next to Sister Theresa admiring their morning’s work. “We’re gonna need to put a fence up. Otherwise, when things start to come up, the deer will eat you clean. I think there’s some fencing down at the old Johnson place.” Hunter pointed south. “Maybe I can get Henry to bring a horse and trailer over in the next couple days, and we can go get it.”
Theresa nodded. “That’s a good idea. Can it wait?” Theresa asked.
Hunter shrugged. “Yeah, nothing will start coming up for a week or so. If Henry and I get at it in the next day or two, that will be good enough.” The group strolled toward the house. Lunch was in order.
As they ate their simple sandwiches and carrot sticks, some of the younger girls talked about this new and different life. Things had changed so much in the last few weeks, much more than any of them ever thought they might. They wondered aloud if this was it, if this was what the rest of their lives would be like? None of them were ready for a hard, difficult existence far away from their former friends. Finally, Karen looked over to the only man at the table.
“Hunter, do you think we might find a car somewhere to use? I mean, something we could have so we don’t have to walk to the store when we need things? Maybe if we ever need to run to the doctor or such?” The question was legitimate most thought. Hunter shook his head at the idea.
Hunter gave Karen a puzzled expression. “How long were you at that school?” he asked.
Karen tilted her head to think. “I was ten when my parents sent me there. So about five years. Maybe a little more.”
“And the others?” Hunter shot out his follow-up question.
“Most of them were there when I arrived. Only Emily came the year after me.”
Hunter scratched his beard and thought for a moment. “So you came the year after the event. Emily a year after that. But the others were there when it happened?” His eyes settled back on Karen’s face.
“Yes, because Sara and Sheila asked me what it was like in the outside world. They kept asking if I thought their parents were coming for them.” Karen shrugged. “How was I to know how permanent the damage was? I was only ten at the time.” Finishing, she leaned forward with her chin on her right palm and awaited Hunter’s reply.
“Well, to answer your question, there are no running cars anywhere around here that I know of. None that are available at least.” He went back to eating his second sandwich. He had slept through breakfast earlier.
“I saw dozens of them, either sitting in people’s yards or on the side of the road, on the way up here.” Sheila countered this time. “I think there’s even a nice truck sitting at the next place back. Wouldn’t that work?”
Hunter gazed at the group. “Nah, you see those vehicles don’t run any more. Only the older stuff from like the Sixties and beyond works now.” He peered at their puzzled expressions. They needed more information from Hunter. “Whatever happened six years ago fried all of our technology. Newer cars and trucks, anything from the mid-Seventies on, are run by onboard computers. Whatever happened fried all the computers, all electronics. Any of the older stuff has been pretty much scooped up already. Everything else, all those vehicles you see just sitting around, are pretty much just junk. And that doesn’t even begin to address the gas problem.”
Everyone knew that gasoline was in short supply. A common belief in most places was that the war in the south, wherever the fight was taking place, was all about oil and gas. Even schools like DeepHaven taught it these days. They who controlled the gas, controlled the world.
“Do you know what happened? You know, six years ago. Was it a war?” Sara picked up with another question for Hunter. He stopped eating and rubbed his forehead.
“No one really knows, Sara. People speculate, but I never heard anything definite. Some people think it was a bunch of nuclear bombs; some by us, some from the far side of the world. That’s logical, but I would have expected more fallout if that was the case. Some people say a sophisticated set of EMPs hit us. Electromagnetic pulses. Those would wipe out all our technology. Basically, give us what we have now. Takes us back 100, maybe 200 years in our development.” He stared around the table. Everyone focused on his words. “It could even be as simple as a group of high intensity solar flares. Stuff right from the sun. That would have the same effect as an EMP. But I would have expected more radiation damage with that by now…The bottom line is we don’t know, and may never know. We just need to survive, and maybe in the next generation or two, things will get back to normal.” He went back to eating as the girls, and Sister Theresa pondered his words.
Now the good Sister was interested. “How do you explain all the radiation, Hunter? You know, in the cities.”
“I suppose it could be from bombs. But I would have thought the sky would have been black for years if we exploded a bunch of nuclear warheads around the world. I mean, from what I’ve heard, everywhere got hit. Not just southern Wisconsin, not just the Midwest, not even just the USA. I’ve heard talk this was worldwide.” Hunter thought further. “I suppose the radiation we’re having is from the meltdown of nuclear reactors from all over the world. I think at one time someone said there were about 80 nuclear plants in this country alone. Something like a total of 130 or 140 actual reactors. If they all melted down, well that would be quite a mess.”
“How many are there worldwide? Do you know?” Sara asked.
“Oh, hundreds. Maybe close to a thousand, if you counted subs and smaller plants. Enough to make a real mess if they weren’t properly maintained.” This sounded darker to his audience. “Who knows how much worse it will get. When the power went down, I thought it would come back up in a week or two. Then maybe a month, maybe two. That was almost six years ago. Nowadays, everyone is mostly worried about getting by. No one has time to worry about the other stuff. Eating a meal every so often becomes pretty basic instinct. No food, no fun.” Hunter sensed the subject needed changing as he studied Theresa’s sad face.
Hearing a baby start to scream in the other room, Emily’s head sank into her hands. She sighed loudly. “Dang it, that’s Cal again,” she whispered.
Theresa rose from her seat and rubbed Emily’s thin shoulders. “Now remember what I said. We aren’t going to let his little fits get us down from now on. Right?” Emily nodded without looking up.
Hunter rose and glanced away from the pair. “I think I’ll run over and make arrangements with Henry to go get that fencing tomorrow. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Hunter left the group deep in thought. While enlightening, his words were equally sobering.
Chapter Thirteen
Hunter conferred with Henry Mueller. Tomorrow was fine with Henry to run over and get some fencing for the ladies. He was glad to be able to help out in any way. Hunter knew Henry had a good heart and could be counted on when needed.
Hunter came back and reported his news to Sister Theresa. She was satisfied with the progress. She had several other smaller tasks for Hunter that afternoon and asked for his help again. Happy not to be in her doghouse, he said he was glad to help as needed.
First, a window in the living room appeared to be stuck closed. Sister Theresa knew they would need it to open once the summer heat arrived. Hunter banged on it for a while, and discovered two nails in the bottom of the frame pounded into the sash. He carefully removed the nails, and the window functioned correctly.
Next Sister had him fix the blinds in almost every room in the house. She didn’t like the shades open after dark. Young ladies needed their privacy she felt. Hunter pleaded with her on this task. They weren’t in town after all. The only thing peering in their windows at night might be a deer or an opossum. Theresa insisted, so he did as asked.
The final project was a delicate issue. The house had a full bathroom, and that included a toilet, non-working of course. Thus far, they had used the outhouse located in the machine shed adjacent to the house, but the Sister thought it would be nice if they could use the indoor facilities, especially after dark. This
required some thought on Hunter’s part.
“If you can flush it, the water and waste will just go into the holding tank out back. No telling how full that is. Probably almost empty since the farm’s been vacant for years. Six people can’t use it all the time, but if you just use it at night it will probably last for a year or two at least. Until something else can be figured out to replace it.” Hunter inspected the plumbing as he spoke to Theresa, and Sara, who had decided to help him with this job.
“So how do we get water to it? It’s not like the water pipes work on the inflow?” Sara stuck her head down in the crawl space as Hunter inspected the tight area.
“Well, we get you a bucket of water and just be sure it’s filled every night by dark. You only need a half gallon or so to flush the bowl, so a five gallon pail should last you the night I would think.” Hunter popped up out of the pit and put the lid down over the crawl space. “But you got to remember to fill the bucket before going to bed. Otherwise, someone is gonna have to fetch water in the dark.”
“Thank you, Hunter. You’ve done well again today. Your help is greatly needed and appreciated.” Sister Theresa walked him out the back door into the farmyard alone. “Will you stay for supper?” Theresa stared into Hunter’s eyes as he prepared to leave.
“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, after the fence project. I’ll probably need a good meal then.” Hunter turned to leave, but Theresa had one more question.
“The garden is a good project and all, it will teach the girls self-sufficiency. That’s a good lesson to learn, especially in these times. But is it really necessary? The garden that is?” Theresa pointed to the south at the garden plot. “I mean with the militia bringing supplies every month or so. We should have enough to eat as long as we stretch things, right?” Theresa smiled, but Hunter frowned. He signaled for her to take a seat on the cement step by the back porch.
